


pulse point

by maddy_does (favefangirl)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Healer Draco Malfoy, M/M, Medical Procedures, Mostly Fluff, alternate universe - healer/auror, bad innuendos, barely, check ups, slight competence kink, unsubtle innuendos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/favefangirl/pseuds/maddy_does
Summary: a-zzurra:the reason i don't go to the doctor anymore is because i went once and the medical intern was super young and super hot so naturally i got nervous, and when he measured my heart rate he said "hmm it's ... faster than average and then he smirked. cos he knew. cos i'm not subtle. cos i'm a dumb motherfucker. anyway imagine your OTPdiydrarryHealer!Draco and InjuredAuror!Harry tho?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 124





	pulse point

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on a tumblr post i cannot find a link to so, sorry folks, but full credit is in the summary
> 
> soooooo, i kinda changed the prompt here so that harry wasn't injured just because. hope nobody minds ><

It's just a routine checkup. Part of the reforms under Minister Weasley's Auror Decrees is a firmer enforcement of care for auror's health and that involves regular checkups with the Healers at St Mungos. It's a waste of a perfectly good morning in Harry's opinion. He's never felt better, he hasn't had a sick day in five years and hasn't seen the inside of St Mungos for his own benefit in nearly as long. 

Still, he can't argue with his superiors. And so he finds himself sat on an uncomfortable plastic seat outside a healer's office, waiting to be called in. He's been pulling faces at a little boy who's sat across from him for the better part of five minutes, not quite managing to stifle how much he's grinning at the uncontrollable giggles coming from the child. 

A stern looking nurse steps out from the healer's office and calls his name, so he winks at the boy before standing and entering the room. He's always hated the offices in St Mungo's. Everything is plastic wrapped and reeks of sterilisation spells. It reminds him of bleach. He sits down in the chair that the nurse gestures to, shifting to get comfortable as though that's even a possibility, and trying not to slide all over the place on the smooth surface. He exhales loudly, just so the universe knows how much he doesn't want to be there.

The nurse shoots him a dark look and tuts at him as though he's a petulant child and not a high clearance, professional auror who risks life and limb to keep others safe. The nerve on the woman. She asks Harry a series of questions - name, age, date of birth, auror registry number - then apparates his file from the storage rooms in the heart of the hospital. She floats it over to the doctor's desk then leaves the room, and Harry alone in it.

He reads the various posters around the room as he shrugs off his jacket in an endeavour to get comfortable, each promoting spells against STDs; the importance of regular check ups to prevent against dragon pox; the negative effects of excessive firewhiskey consumption, but quickly grows bored of seeing the same five smiling faces and reading the same five cringe-worthy tag lines. The day they make posters animated like pictures will be the day that hospital boredom becomes extinct. Harry bets the wizard on the STD poster is a riot at parties.

Fortunately, Harry is put out of his misery as the door to the office opens and in walks his healer and - oh shit. His healer is absolutely gorgeous. Blonde, cheek bones that could cut glass, tall, built like a quidditch player. Jesus. And when his eyes flick up to Harry from his Muggle mobile phone, they're the most beautifully ordinary grey Harry has ever seen. He feels himself flush immediately, but he knows now is really not really the time to be heating up.

The healer picks up Harry's file and quickly flicks through it before turning his smiling face to Harry. "Good morning, Auror Potter," he greets politely. "I'm Healer Malfoy, I'll be doing your check-up today as Healer Granger is on leave." He sits down on the office chair at the desk and has another flick through the file. "You seem to be in perfect health according to this, so we should fly through today and get you back out into the field in no time, alright."

He uses his obscenely long, long legs to wheel himself over to Harry, and looks back up from the file, those enchanting eyes landing on the auror's blushing face. All Harry can do is nod, his vocal chords having gone on strike in the presence of the gorgeous specimen in front of him. He tries circular breathing to calm himself down, but he can't help the heat rising in his face, his sweating palms, or his heart pounding in his chest. Jesus.

"Okay, just to make sure your file is up to date you're 27, non-smoker, there's a history of diabetes in your family on your mother's side and as far as you're aware you've never contracted an STD?" Healer Malfoy looks at Harry expectantly and all he can do is nod. 

The stern looking nurse re-enters the room wheeling a tray of equipment which, given how much they reek of disinfectant spells, must have been recently sterilised. She barely looks at harry as she wheels the tray to Healer Malfoy then walks over to the other side of the room, busying herself with some vials of liquids, each a disturbing colour, some of them bubbling like a miss-brewed potion.

"Perfect," Healer Malfoy continues, drawing Harry's attention back to himself. "If you could just stand up we'll check your weight and height."

Harry does as he's told, rubbing his sweaty palms onto his jeans in a way he hopes is not too obvious. Healer Malfoy taps a powerlock tape measure which is sat on the tray next to him twice, and it immediately comes to life. The metal lip sits at Harry's feet as it shoots up, level to the top of his head, then stiffens. Healer Malfoy checks its reading then presses a button on the side which shoots the ruler back into the plastic casing. Harry watches as he writes down 5'9'' in beautiful cursive.

So much for healer handwriting, Harry thinks, somewhat embarrassed about his own barely legible scrawl.

Next, Harry is led to a weighing scale, which after he steps onto it, reads 68.1 Kgs. "Healthy BMI," Healer Malfoy observes, mostly to himself. 

Harry is then told to sit back in the chair, for which he's glad as staring at Healer Malfoy is causing his legs to feel like jelly. Healer Malfoy then picks up the sphygmomanometer, unravelling the wires. He asks harry to hold his arm out as he slips the band on up to his bicep. Gently, he moves Harry's arm so it's resting on the edge of the chair. Harry tries to ignore the goosebumps and shivers from the feel of skin-on-skin contact.

"This may feel uncomfortable," he warns, as the band began to tighten around Harry's bicep. 

Healer Malfoy is right, it is uncomfortable as the band continues to tighten. He hopes it doesn't show on his face - he's fought more dark wizards than most people had had hot dinners, he isn't about to show pain from a simple blood pressure test. It finally stops tightening, and Healer Malfoy takes the reading.

"122 over 79, perfectly normal for someone your age." 

Slowly the band loosens, until Healer Malfoy slides it back off his arm. Harry flexes his bicep slightly just to revel in the new found comfort, while Healer Malfoy records the readings. He manages to catch the eye of the nurse in the corner who raises an eyebrow at him before going back to her vials. Harry shifts a little uncomfortably in the chair. 

"Now, Auror Potter, I'm going to take your pulse." Healer Malfoy puts down his pen and turns to Harry. "Hold out your arm, if you please."

Harry does as he's told, not even remotely subtle in his staring. Healer Malfoy is very gentle as he presses his fingers into the base of his thumb, and the feel of warm hands and soft skin is altogether far more distracting than Harry feels it had any right to be. Harry swallows desperately around a dry mouth as Healer Malfoy watches the clock on the wall. It's perhaps the longest 30 seconds of Harry's life.

After a tortuously long amount of time Draco lifts his fingers away from Harry's wrists. "Faster than average," Draco observes as he wrote down the measurement, and Harry isn't sure if the flirtatious look sent his way is a figment of his imagination or not.

Harry doesn't have much time to consider it, however, as at that moment the nurse comes over with a small vial of a pink coloured potion, and a small, white cardboard box. Healer Malfoy takes the box and empties out the contents of a blood test kit. Healer Malfoy opens an antiseptic wipe and gestures for Harry to once again hold out his arm. As the healer is working, the nurse speaks.

"Drink this," she says, offering the vial to Harry. "It'll slow the blood flow, make your veins swell. Makes taking blood easier." She's watching Harry with a look in her eye he finds almost unnerving.

Harry, obediently, does as he's told and downs the pink liquid. It tastes distinctly of nothing, for which Harry is immensely grateful. St Mungos is almost renowned for its medicinal potions which taste worse than even the most unpleasant Bertie Botts jelly beans. Healer Malfoy then presses the needle into Harry's skin, and the scratch Harry feels as it happens makes him glad he'd not been patronised with a 'this won't hurt'

Healer Malfoy removes the needle from his arm, and the nurse takes over in securing the sample. Meanwhile, Healer Malfoy places a cotton pad over the puncture, and asks Harry to hold it. As Harry takes over, their fingers brush ever so slightly, and Harry can't help the barely audible gasp. Perhaps Ron was right, perhaps he does need to get laid. 

Healer Malfoy then turns back to the file on his desk. "Some final questions then you're free to go." He turns to Harry with a smile. "How much alcohol would you say you consume on a weekly basis?"

Harry thinks a moment. "I'll maybe have a firewhiskey or two with my partner at the end of a rough shift, but I wouldn't say any more than the next man."

Healer Malfoy nods, then asks, with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And, uh, how much physical activity would you say you participated in on a weekly basis?" Harry could sworn he hears the nurse muffle a heavy sigh as she leaves the room with his blood sample. Healer Malfoy tilts his head ever so slightly. "Does your partner help with that, also?"

Harry can't help the catch in his breath, or the blush on his cheeks. "Through my job I get plenty of exercise," Harry replies, surprising even himself at the steadiness of his voice. He waits until Healer Malfoy has turned back to his notes to add, "Although perhaps I am in need of a little more physical activity, Healer."

He doesn't miss the barely concealed smirk on Healer Malfoy's face before he turns back to face Harry with an obviously feigned polite smile. "Well, your health record looks perfect to me. Watch those firewhiskeys don't start multiplying, and don't overdo it at work. Your blood test results should be back with us in a few days, and we'll send an owl to let you know to come back in." 

Harry stands to leave, grabbing his jacket as he goes, when Healer Malfoy picks his pen back up and began writing, sensing, though ruefully, that this is the end of the check up. Healer Malfoy surprises him by calling his name just as he's pulling open the room door. He turns back around and Healer Malfoy is holding out a scrap of paper to him.

Harry takes it as the healer explains, "I'm slightly concerned about your answer to my final question. Perhaps you could give me a call when we're both off duty, and I can make sure you're participating in a rigorous work out routine?"

Harry barely suppresses a grin as he gives a quick nod and walks out the room. He looks down at the note in his hand and below the number written on it is the message: _my heart was pounding, too - Draco_. Harry carefully slips it into his back pocket and leaves St Mungos with a bit of a spring in his step.

**Author's Note:**

> i appreciate the dubious morality of draco asking harry out. i feel like hippocrates may have a thing or two to say about that. but he's not harry's regular doctor for one, and also this is complete fiction for two, so yeah.
> 
> also, thank you to the NHS website for all the information it had that helped me write this. the NHS really are carrying us through this crisis in so many ways so big up them. i'm pretty sure i did more research for this fic than i did revision for my whole ass biology gcse but hey ho. exams don't mean shit now anyway.
> 
> idk if i might want to continue this, i might be slightly invested, lol. no promises though, the only thing worse than my writing schedule is the writing itself, haha.
> 
> if you wanna leave a comment or a kudos they're much appreciated! especially let me know if there's something you think i forgot to tag! also, let me know if there are any tense issues. i was halfway through re-reading when i realised i'd written half of it in a different tense. i'm pretty sure i fixed it all, but just in cases!
> 
> i'm taking prompts! if you're interested please drop the prompt in the comments below. if you do send a prompt be prepared for me to take fifty years to fill it because school is so hard, but i promise i'll try! come say hi on tumblr: [@maddy-does](https://maddy-does.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thanks again for reading, have a wonderful existence.


End file.
